


The Road to Paradise

by Whitehat2018



Series: New Mutants: Children of the Atom [6]
Category: New Mutants, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 17:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17390585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whitehat2018/pseuds/Whitehat2018
Summary: Set at the same time as the final chapter of "The New Magus Saga."  Illyana has a conversation with... herself?  It's a uniquely unpleasant sensation, being a playing piece in your own plan.





	The Road to Paradise

               _Oh, no one's paved the road to paradise  
_

_Or guaranteed that it'll be nice_

_It's just a long road, hard road_

               _Draggin' the little red wagon_

_Till we're six feet under, wonderin'_

_"The fuck have I done, where did my time go?"_

_At times in life you've gotta take a chance_

_And dance on broken glass_

_And see who lasts_

-Tat, "Road to Paradise"

            Illyana Rasputina wrinkled her nose, as she struck the Soulsword through the body of the N’Garai mongrel, slumped across the ruin of a caved-in taxi.  As the Soulsword struck through demonic flesh, ichor burst into silver fire, racing through the veins of the corpse before roaring to life, burning it into vapor, and leaving nary a trace except a lingering, sulfuric stink.

            “Sam told me they didn’t smell like anything at all, except for their breath.”  Illyana murmured, “Well, they certainly stink on the inside.”  She tucked a lank strand of her hair back, and then paused, before holding the blade up.  A shiver of light ran down the blade, from the hilt to the tip, and as she pointed it, the glow intensified.

            The café had been abandoned when the demons attacked New York, and so far, no one had ventured inside, but now a lone figure sat in relaxed posture in a comfortable chair, absently breaking a muffin apart with her thumbs, and eating it. 

             Illyana Rasputina looked in her own eyes and scowled.  “You know what your presence here could mean if the demons in Limbo caught wind of it.  I could wind up fighting a civil war against myself.”

             Darkchylde gestured, easily, palm-up.  “It won’t be a long stay.  I want to talk to you.”

Illyana shouldered her Soulsword.  “About the Magus?  He’s your son, not mine.  To me, he’s nothing but a hypothetical, a ‘what-if?’.  I refuse to waste my time navel-gazing about such things.”

             Darkchylde gave a wintry smile.  “I agree.  But.”

             “But?”

             “But.”  The future Illyana smirked.  “You know that Shuma-Gorath exists outside of time as those who exist within this universe perceive it.  His incursion into our reality has already happened, is happening, and has not happened yet, as he perceives such things.  Meaning he is already aware of his own failure, and he can take steps to prevent it.  In the same vein, those of us with greater awareness than normal… have to take steps to ensure he does not succeed.”

              “Schrodinger’s eldritch horror.  Shuma-Gorath both has and has not invaded and destroyed the Earth, until we pass the point where the box is open, and he has either succeeded or failed.  You’ve passed that point.  He failed.”  Illyana sat, and for a moment, allowed herself to slump, posture tired.

              “Yes.  And he failed, because Nicky existed to stop him.”  Darkchylde poured a cup of coffee from a purloined French press and pushed it toward her past self.  “Nicky has both our powers, and his father’s.  He has our affinity for magic.  He was the pivot-point in that battle, a master of patterns who was able to take the battle to the lord of the Outer Chaos in a way I, or rather we, could never hope to.  Our powers align with the forces of disorder, you know that.”

               Illyana’s expression flattened, and she ignored her coffee.  “So, you’re saying that for the sake of stopping Shuma-Gorath, I need to have a child with Doug.”

               Darkchylde’s eyes lit.  “You object to this idea?”

               “I am not some bitch to be bred because my whelping is part of some master plan.”  Illyana said, her expression growing angry, voice tight and controlled.  “Not even my own.”

               “And yet you know I’m right.”

               “That isn’t the point!”  Illyana brought her hand down on the table, for emphasis. 

               “We manipulated everyone before.”  Darkchylde grinned, before she raised her cup to her lips, showing fangs.  “For the same reason.  The fate of the world.  Remember?”

               Illyana’s jaw tightened.  “And then what.  Suppose I do what you did… I condemn my son – my _hypothetical_ son – to madness and heartache.”

               “We were willing to sacrifice everyone we loved in our gambit to destroy the Elder Gods.”  Darkchylde said.  When Illyana opened her mouth to object, she held up a finger.  “…We deceived them, lied to them, and used them, to get them to do what we wanted… because we knew that it was the only way to get them through it alive.  …Well… except for Doug.  He knew we had an ulterior motive the whole time, and he could’ve blown us in.  But he played dumb.  Why do you think that was?”

               “…Because he _trusted us_.”  Illyana said, through gritted teeth.  “He trusted that even if I—we were deceiving the others, we were doing it for the right reasons.”

               “Yes.”  Darkchylde said.  “…Doug always did trust us.  The idiot.”

               “And using him to bring a child into this world simply as a pawn to beat Shuma-Gorath is deplorable, even for me.”  Illyana said, crossing her arms.

               “Oh, please.”  Darkchylde rolled her eyes.  “Nothing we’ve ever done has _ever_ been simple, you stupid girl.  Don’t try to dumb down your motivations in order to get the best of me.”

               Illyana exhaled, slowly, and then said, “…He’s broken inside.”

               “So are you.  You share the common experience of dying and then being brought back into the world as nothing more than the throwaway pawns in someone else’s game, brought back to sanity by the faith and love put in you by others... and now you’re both living through the pain of growing back into the shape of someone else’s life, then bursting it.”  Darkchylde mused.

               “And besides,” she added, “you always did think he was cute.  I mean, he and Kitty are both just our type, aren’t they?  Witty, resourceful, ever so clever and endlessly brave.  Did he ever get wise that the real reason Kitty decided to keep him in the friend zone was because she was leaving you room to take your shot—”

               “Stop it.”  Illyana said.  “Please.”

               “And then he was dead.  And we lost our chance.”  Darkchylde continued.  “And then _we_ were dead, and it was a moot point.  But you’re not dead now, are you?”

               “And we are also not those people.  Those _children_ are dead.”  Illyana said, curling her hands into fists.

               “We fed the man who killed him to demons and bound his soul into a crystal snow-globe.”  Darkchylde said.  “And one of the first things we did upon returning to power in Limbo was retrieve it from the demonic dung-heap where it had wound up.”

               Illyana glared, and the Darkchylde met her gaze.

               “Out of all of our friends, only Doug and Kitty looked at us and saw only the people we wanted to be, and not the monsters we feared becoming.  They weren’t afraid—or if they were, they put those fears aside.  An honest word, an honest touch, with no fear or ulterior motive.  Honest acceptance.  It meant the world to us, didn’t it?” 

               “…And why would I want to betray the memory of that friendship by using Doug that way?”  Illyana said, rising.  “This conversation is a waste of time, and I won’t entertain it any longer.”

               Darkchylde’s eyebrows perked.  “Just as well, I was enjoying the peace and quiet.  Oh, Illyana—”

               Illyana looked up, from where she had turned and headed toward the door.  “What.”

               “The pivot point that might change everything is that he spent years asking me a question in jest, and I spent years calling him ridiculous and telling him no.  It will seem like such a small thing.  Indulge me.  Call his bluff the first time and say yes.  And just remember—we had our love at first sight with Kitty, and it holds no mystery for us.  As far as building a love affair goes… couldn’t you do worse than your friend with the power to see how the pieces fit together?”  Her expression softened.  “You’re right.  You’re both broken.  But sometimes you can take the pieces and put them together to make something greater still.”

               Illyana closed her eyes and turned away again.

               “Oh, and Illyana?”  Darkchylde called.  “One more thing.”

               Illyana paused, in the doorway. 

               “…He’s still cute.”

               Illyana put her hand on the doorframe, and then looked at her reflection, and spoke.  “He’s moody.  Especially when he’s drunk.  He’s insecure and easy to provoke.  He’s impulsive.  He _snores_ and after a long mission his boots _stink_ to high heaven and he never remembers to spray them out.  He likes stupid Japanese cartoons.  He’s always looking for validation, for some meaningless proof of his own worth—”

               “He’ll never stop looking for it either, even when it’s radiating from inside of him like a miniature sun.  He’s a big, idiot boy, as stupid as he is _brilliant_ , and he’ll be like that for the rest of his life.”  Darkchylde smiled.  “But when he curls up with you without a trace of fear and falls asleep… it’s lovely.  Even if he does occasionally drool in your ear.”

               Illyana’s fingers curled into the doorframe.  “…And he’ll be a wonderful father, I’m sure.”

               “Actually, he’ll be as terrified and as frustrated as you.”  Darkchylde mused.  “You already care about him, more than you ever told him.  What do you think love is _built from_?  You tell yourself that you and everyone else are better off  if you’re alone but I, who am you but with the perspective of age, am telling you that you are a liar.  Think about it.”

               Illyana let her hand drop.  “No promises.”

               Darkchylde grinned, wide.  “And no compromise.  Not even with yourself.”

              

            _Oh, love has tortured, love has killed_

_Love has saved a million still!_

             -Tat, "Road to Paradise"

 

**Author's Note:**

> Romances take time to build. This is my experiment in building one.
> 
> Yes, I am writing Illyana as bisexual, but I resist the desire to portray her as a fetish pinup or some kind of broken, childlike doll. 
> 
> As far as I'm concerned, she and Doug were both in love with Kitty, and both accepted that while she loved them, she wasn't in love with them.
> 
> The song from which the title is derived is Tat's "Road to Paradise", which you can listen to here:https://youtu.be/czszZ-sgBTQ
> 
> There may be a second part of this, I haven't decided yet.


End file.
